


Heartstone

by mikkimouse



Series: Sheith Summer Week 2017 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Fisherman Shiro, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soulmates, merman Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 09:30:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11597832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/pseuds/mikkimouse
Summary: Shiro gaped. He'd heard stories, certainly, about creatures who roamed the deep waters—merfolk who were neither human nor fish, squid the length of an entire village, women who sang sailors to their doom, beings who could transform between human and seal—but he'd never seen any of the legends come to life.And yet, here was a merman, sunning himself on the rock in the bay.





	Heartstone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day one of Sheith Positivity Week's [Summer Week](https://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com/post/161507132170/sheithpositivityweek-welcome-to-sheith), for the prompt Sky/Sea. Unbeta'd. 
> 
> (*sobs "This was only supposed to be 1k" for the 5000th time*)

Shiro heaved his net into the boat and frowned at the pathetic haul. All of two fish, bringing his current total for the day up to four. At this rate, he'd barely have enough to last him the week, never mind taking any fish to the market in Arus tomorrow. 

He sat back on the boat and swiped a cloth over his brow. For three days, he'd gone all around his usual fishing spots, and this was the most he'd been able to bring in with a single throw. He needed to think of something else, and quickly. 

He shaded his eyes and looked to the south over the rolling sea. If he left now, he might have enough time to try fishing the bay. 

Few fishermen ever went to the bay, and even fewer people made the trek, because the sharp rocks and swift currents made it difficult to enter safely and even more difficult to leave. Shiro himself had only done it once before, but the bay was teeming with fish, and on a day like today, he would need that kind of catch. 

He stood and doused his hat in the water before slapping it back on his head, took a drink from his canteen, and retied the wet cloth he used to protect his shoulder. He'd give it a chance, he decided. If he couldn't make it into the bay easily, he wouldn't fight the currents for it. He'd just try somewhere else. 

He sailed south, the breeze taking his little boat easily over the waves, until he reached the large outcropping that marked the entrance to the bay, and cautiously turned his boat westward. He couldn't stay too long; if the tides went out while he was here, he wouldn't be able to leave until the morning. 

He dodged the sharp rocks, riding the current with his small boat, and finally slowed in the middle of the bay. With a sigh of relief, he set down his nets. 

Within an hour, he'd pulled up enough fish to make his quota for the day, and happily stored them in the boat. It was a good enough catch that he might chance coming here again tomorrow, if fishing in his usual areas continued to prove fruitless. 

Shiro pulled out his sail to leave, but before he could tie it off, he caught a glimpse of someone on one of the rocks. 

He blinked in surprise. He'd seen no other boats, so how could another person be out here? Unless their boat had sunk, but surely he'd have heard _that_. Or unless his eyes had deceived him about there being a person at all, with trickery from the midday sun. 

No, he would have to go and check, he decided. If someone had sailed in and lost their boat, he couldn't leave them here. And if it was a trick of the sun, well, he wouldn't have lost too much time and he could have a good laugh at himself before he sailed home. 

He made his way toward the rock where he thought he'd seen the person, fighting the currents with his sail and rudder. Getting to the rock was a bit more difficult than he'd anticipated, which strengthened his idea that he _had_ seen someone, and they had lost their boat to the rocks. 

He rounded the rock, doing his best to hold his boat steady, and spotted the person he'd seen. 

A young man was lying there, fingers linked behind his head, black hair splayed out like a sunburst around his face. But instead of legs, he had a brilliant red tail, with scales that shimmered orange and gold in the sun. 

_A merman_. 

Shiro gaped. He'd heard stories, certainly, about creatures who roamed the deep waters—merfolk who were neither human nor fish, squid the length of an entire village, women who sang sailors to their doom, beings who could transform between human and seal—but he'd never seen any of the legends come to life. 

And yet, here was a merman, sunning himself on the rock in the bay. 

Shiro would have sworn that he made no sound, but the merman jerked upright and stared right at him. 

Before Shiro could blink or call out, the merman had dived back into the ocean, leaving scarcely a splash of water behind him.

***

"A merman?" Matt frowned over his ale. "Are you sure the sun wasn't playing tricks on you?" 

Shiro shook his head and took another bite of his bread. Matt and his sister, Pidge, were Shiro's closest friends in Arus, and he'd decided to tell Matt what he'd seen once the market had closed for the day. He could trust Matt not to laugh at him, and more importantly, not to tell anyone else. 

"I've never seen anything like this before," Shiro said. "And I don't think it was the sun." 

Matt took another drink. "You've also been alone out there for a long time. Are you sure _that_ isn't getting to you? You know you're welcome to stay with Pidge and me." 

It was an old argument. Shiro knew where it came from, and he appreciated it, but the idea of living in the city chafed at him. He liked his little cottage on the ocean, even if it looked isolating to outsiders. Certainly, there were nights he would wake and turn to the other side of his big bed and wish for someone to share it with him, but overall he was content. He had the sky and the sea and his boat, and whenever he felt lonely, he walked out onto his front porch and watched the moonlight dance on the water and listened to the waves crash onto the beach. It was impossible to feel alone with all of that.

"If loneliness was getting to me, I think it would have done so before _now_ ," Shiro said. "No. There was something out there." 

Matt grumbled, but didn't start prodding Shiro to move his whole life into Arus again. "I believe you saw _something_ , but we've sailed the bay for decades and no one's ever seen any merfolk before." 

"There's a first time for everything," Shiro said. 

Matt tapped his mug of ale to Shiro's. "True enough. For what it's worth, I hope you find him again." 

Shiro sighed. "Me, too."

***

The next week, Shiro stayed in his usual waters for only one day before he gave into curiosity and returned to the bay again. Just long enough to give it another search, he decided. To see if he'd been seeing things, or if the merman really _had_ been there. 

He realized he'd made an error when the wind shifted. 

Shiro snapped his head to the sky. Great grey clouds rolled in from the ocean, and the waves grew in size, rocking his boat dangerously.

He eyed the rocky entrance to the bay. There was no way he'd be able to make it out safely before the storm hit. 

He scanned the beach and the shore, seeking some kind of shelter from the storm. 

There. A small cove where he could pull up his boat, and the outcropping near it looked like it would shelter him from the worst of the weather. 

Shiro made right for it.

He reached the cove just before the storm broke, and pulled his boat onto the sand and tied it up tightly. As he'd anticipated, the outcropping wasn't the best shelter, but it kept off the worst of the pounding rain and shielded him from the wind and rising waves. 

The skin on his arm and legs pebbled with the drop in temperature, and the echoes of thunder made him wince. There was precious little in the cove that he could use to make a fire, so the best he could hope for was for the storm to pass quickly.

He huddled against the rock, rubbing his arms to warm himself, when he heard another splash nearby. At first, he thought it was merely the waves on the rock, but no, it wasn't the same rhythm. 

Shiro grabbed a spear from his boat and cautiously made his way along the outcropping. He didn't _think_ anything out here would be dangerous, but it was far better to be safe than sorry. 

Further along, he heard another splash, this one much closer than the others had been. He spotted a small bend in the outcropping that he had missed on his way into the cove, and peered around the corner.

Inside, clinging to a rock ledge, was the merman with the red tail. He scrabbled at the side of the rock, grimacing, his movements jerky rather than fluid, the pale skin of his back crisscrossed with welts.

_I knew you were real_ , Shiro thought. 

The merman snapped his head around and froze, eyes fixed on Shiro. No, wait, on his spear. 

Quickly, Shiro set the spear on the rock beside him and held up his hands. "I'm not going to harm you," he said, keeping his voice steady. "Are you hurt?" 

The merman's eyes flicked around the rock, like he was looking for a way out. 

"I'm Shiro," Shiro said. "If you're hurt, maybe I can help. I have bandages on my boat."

The merman continued to stare at him, silent, fingers gripping the rock so hard Shiro could see they were turning white. 

"I'm going to get my bandages," Shiro said slowly, in case the merman didn't know his language, and then reflected on how silly that was. "Please, don't move." 

Thunder crashed above them, loud enough that Shiro jumped and nearly lost his footing on the slick rock. He swore under his breath and headed back to his boat. He had only what he needed to fix minor injuries when he was out on the water, simple scrapes and cuts, but it would have to do. And it was better than nothing. 

He straightened and made to return to the merman, but the merman was pulling himself along the outcropping toward Shiro's boat. 

Pulling meant his _tail_ was likely injured. 

Shiro dropped the bandages on his boat and ran straight into the water. The sand dropped off sharply beneath his feet, but the current wasn't so strong that he couldn't swim against it. 

The merman stopped struggling toward the boat and gaped at him. 

Shiro swam up beside him and offered one hand, treading water to keep himself up. "Let me help you." 

The merman continued to gape at him. "You swim," he finally said. "But you have no tail." 

Shiro couldn't help it. He laughed. The first words a _merman_ had spoken to him, and they were about his lack of tail. "Legs do well enough in a pinch," he said. "Come on, let's get you back to my boat. I'm Shiro," he said again. 

The merman hesitated, and then took his outstretched hand. "I'm Keith."

***

Shiro pulled the merman—Keith—onto his boat. The rain was still pouring down, but at least their little area was protected enough that they were both starting to dry out. Shiro carefully washed and bandaged the cuts on Keith's back, as well as the larger ones marring his tail. 

"Looks like you lost a fight with a shark," Shiro said. 

Keith cocked his head to the side and frowned. "Sharks don't hunt merfolk. This was from a trap."

Shiro almost dropped the bandages in shock. "A trap? Wait, there _is_ something that hunts merfolk?" 

Keith hugged himself. "Humans do." 

Guilt ate at him. Shiro lowered his eyes and busied himself tying off the bandage around the largest laceration in Keith's tail. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. Heck, I didn't even know you existed until a week ago." 

"When you saw me on the rock," Keith said. 

Shiro nodded.

"I wasn't supposed to be up there." Keith looked back out toward the bay. "But I like the way the sun feels." 

That was a feeling he knew well. Shiro smiled. "Not so much sun on a day like today, is there?" 

He might have been mistaken, but he thought Keith laughed, quick and quiet. 

Shiro finished bandaging Keith's tail, and put his things away. "There. That should help a little, at least." 

Keith straightened his tail and winced. "It still hurts." 

"It probably will for a while," Shiro said. "But the bandages will slow the bleeding and keep your injuries from getting infected." 

"Hmph." Keith glared at his tail, and then looked back up to Shiro. "What happened to your arm?" 

Shiro stiffened at the question, and instinct had him moving to block his right arm from view, even though it had been years since anyone had said anything about it. But Keith's tone wasn't disgusted, simply curious. 

He made himself sit beside Keith and hold out his metal arm. Shiro curled and uncurled his fingers, one by one. "A friend of mine made it for me when I lost my other one. Same accident where I got this." He pointed at the scar across his nose. 

Keith stared at it, openly curious. "Why doesn't it rust? Metal doesn't do well in water." 

Shiro smiled. "My friend is very good at what she does. And I keep it clean." 

Keith reached out for his arm and stopped, fingers hovering just inches over Shiro's arm. "Can I touch it?" 

"Sure, go ahead." 

Keith traced over Shiro's arm, examining the crease at his elbow, the joints of his wrist and knuckles, giving a more thorough examination than Shiro himself had when Pidge had first attached it. He seemed to find it fascinating.

Shiro was hit with a sudden longing to feel the way Keith was touching him, and startled at how powerful it was. He'd gotten used to the lack of feeling in the metal, and it hadn't bothered him in ages. But now...

Keith flicked his gaze up from his arm to Shiro's eyes. He'd somehow moved close enough that Shiro could see his eyes were purple, serious, and—

Shiro's heart thudded hard. _Oh, no_.

"It's amazing," Keith said. 

Shiro cleared his throat. "I'll have to tell Pidge you said that." 

Keith frowned. 

Shiro wiggled his arm. "My friend who made this. She's an inventor."

"Is it heavy?" Keith asked. 

Shiro shook his head. "I'm used to it." 

He couldn't help but notice that during all of this conversation, Keith hadn't pulled away. He stayed frighteningly close, enough that it made Shiro's breath come faster. 

Suddenly, Keith's head snapped around toward the mouth of the cove. "They're looking for me." 

Shiro hadn't heard anything. "They? Who's they? The hunters?" 

Keith shook his head. "No. My pod. Storm's passed, and they're looking for me." He tested his tail again and winced. "Thank you. It still hurts, but I think I can make it back." 

Before Shiro could say anything else, Keith dove off the side of the boat and disappeared into the water.

***

The next day, Shiro returned to the bay, hoping to catch a glimpse of Keith again, even though he knew it was unlikely. He sailed around the entirety of it three times, always making his way past the rock where he'd first seen him, but found nothing but water and fish. 

On his last pass, he sailed into the cove, not expecting to find anything but unable to stop himself from looking anyway. 

The bandages he'd put on Keith's tail and back sat on a rock ledge along the outcropping, cleaned and folded. And sitting on top of them was a smooth black rock half the size of his palm that glistened red when he turned it in the light.

***

He took the rock to Pidge the next time he was in Arus, and her eyes lit up the moment he showed it to her. 

"Oh my God, a black opal!" She bounced around him excitedly, but to her credit, didn't try to touch the stone. "Where the hell did you get a black opal? Do you have any idea how rare these are? Holy shit, it's gorgeous!" 

Shiro pulled the stone back and held it against his chest. "Uh...a friend." 

Pidge's eyes were huge behind her glasses. "Shiro, I hate to break it to you, but if someone is giving you a _black opal_ , they want to be more than just friends." 

He shook his head. There was no way that Keith...after just the one meeting...it was impossible. "Could you put it in a necklace for me?" he asked. "So I don't lose it on the boat." 

Pidge's excitement melted into a shrewd smile, and then into a genuinely happy one. "Anything for you, you know that. I'll have you the best necklace by tomorrow afternoon. Now let me check out that arm of yours, make sure you're taking good care of it."

***

Shiro had heard the tales, had grown up hearing them. He knew that those who fell in love with one of the merfolk would only find sadness and heartbreak at the end of their journeys. 

And even though he knew that, he'd apparently gone and done it anyway.

***

He forced himself not to return to the bay every day, but he still sailed it more than half the days he went out. He couldn't stop himself from looking for Keith, but he never saw him. 

However, that did not stop Shiro from wearing the necklace Pidge had made him from Keith's stone, or from rubbing the stone between his thumb and forefinger while he was sailing. Some days, he swore he could feel it warm in his hands, and once he thought the stone fluttered, but that was ridiculous. It was just a stone. A very rare, very lovely stone that made him feel closer to Keith, with it hanging so close to his heart. 

If he could have just one glimpse, Shiro thought, just the suggestion that Keith was all right after his injuries in the cove, he could stop coming around the bay. Despite his actions, he did know how to take "no" for an answer, if Keith didn't actually want to see him.

He was just worried. And, he could admit privately to himself, he desperately wanted to see Keith again. 

Just once.

***

Market days at the end of the summer were almost unbearably hot, to the point that Shiro debated every year if it were worth it to come out these few weeks. Crowds were slimmer than normal and would be until the weather cooled down as they entered autumn, but it _was_ a chance to see his friends in the city, and he needed to gather as much coin as he could before the winter came and the days he was able to fish dropped to nothing. 

Still, that didn't make it any easier to sit in the heat for hours at a time, hoping someone would want to buy his fish. 

Shiro dunked his wide-brimmed hat in a bucket of water and slapped it back on his head, and dipped a cloth in the water and tied it around his shoulder where metal met skin. It didn't always stop the burns that resulted from hot metal, but it did make them less intense than they would be otherwise. That was a painful lesson he'd learned his first summer with the arm. 

The market wasn't exactly empty, but now that they were nearing the heat of the day, people were starting to head indoors or into the water, anything to stay cool. 

Shiro mopped the sweat from his brow and regarded his booth. Maybe he should just pack up for the day and go have a pint of ale with Pidge and Matt before heading back home. Chances were very slim he'd sell any more after noon. 

He finally gave in and packed in his things shortly after the sun passed the midpoint in the sky, and made his way to Allura's tavern and inn, where he'd stabled his horse and cart and where he was to meet Pidge and Matt. 

The inn was more crowded than usual, probably because of the heat outside. Every window and door in the place was open, and Allura had put buckets of water and ice in front of fans at all the windows. It kept the air moving, and Shiro was grateful for both the shade in the tavern and the relief from the heat outside. 

He lifted his hand in greeting at Hunk, the chef, and his wife, Shay, before he made his way to the table where Pidge and Matt were already sitting. 

Matt pulled out a chair for him. "Called it off early today, did you?" 

Shiro gratefully took the seat and the drink Pidge pushed in front of him. "Too hot for anyone to want to buy anything but ice and ale." 

"It's almost too hot for that," a new voice said, and Shiro looked up to see Allura standing beside their table with three cups of ice cream.

Shiro gladly took the cups and passed them around. "Thank you. This is perfect." 

"Good to hear someone thinks so," Allura said, with a brief glare over her shoulder. 

Shiro followed her gaze. Three men were crowded around one of the tables in the corner, talking and gesturing loudly enough that Shiro suspected the pints in front of them were not their first ones of the day. 

"What are they saying to you?" Pidge demanded, hands on the table like she was getting ready to launch herself over Shiro and Matt to get to the other men. 

"Oh, just that they want _fancy_ ice cream, with fruit and nuts." Allura rolled her eyes. "Because Hunk's fresh vanilla isn't good enough, I suppose." 

Shiro frowned at the men. "How long have they been here?" 

"Too long, and they've had too much to drink." She set her tray on the table and lowered her voice. "I suspect they're pirates. They've been talking all morning about some special item they pulled out of the sea that they're intending to sell to the lord of the city later this evening. Been trying to get me to agree to let them hold a special 'viewing' here and charge all the patrons a silver apiece." She snorted. "As though anyone here would pay that much to see a bauble." 

" _Not_ a bauble!" 

One of the men was standing with one hand slapped on the table, swaying slightly. He raised a finger to point at Allura. "We caught ourselves a creature the likes of which you've never seen. And for the price of a silver, every person in this tavern could have a look." 

Allura put a hand on her hip and tossed her white hair over her shoulder. "I assure you, there is nothing you could have pulled out of the sea that we haven't seen." 

The man gave a twisted, ugly smile. "Have you ever seen one of the merfolk?" 

Something snapped, and Shiro looked down to see his spoon lying in two pieces on the table. When he raised his eyes again, Matt and Pidge were both staring at him. 

Shiro ignored him and flattened his hand over the broken spoon. He'd reimburse Allura later. "Do you really have one of the merfolk?" 

The man chuckled darkly. "Oh, aye. Got him locked up in a tank out in the stables. For just a silver, we'll let you take a peek." 

Shiro fished in his coin purse and pulled out a silver. "Fine." 

"What are you—" Allura began. 

Matt stood up and took out a silver of his own, and held it up to the pirate. "I'll believe it when I see it." 

Shiro turned, surprised, but Matt just smiled and shrugged. "Not letting you go alone," he said under his breath. 

"You're both idiots," Pidge grumbled, and rooted around in her pockets. "I'm coming, too." 

The pirate grinned and swept his hand toward the door. "Then follow me, gentlemen."

***

There was indeed a cloth-covered box in one of the empty stalls in the stable which hadn't been there when Shiro had arrived the night before. It was taller than he was and nearly as long as his cart, which made his stomach twist unpleasantly. The box was large enough to be a tank, which meant it was large enough to hold a merman. 

The pirate and his two compatriots collected their silvers—Pidge turned hers over with a grimace—and then they yanked the cloth off the box with a flourish. 

It was indeed a tank of water, metal and glass, with four massive padlocks around the top. And curled at the bottom, his back to them, was Keith. 

Shiro's heart seized at the sight, and he clenched his fists.

"Hey!" The head pirate slammed his fist against the glass. "Swim a bit, boy, these people paid good money to see you." 

Shiro punched the pirate right in the jaw with his metal hand. He thought he heard bone crunch. 

The man crumpled to the ground without another sound. 

Shiro turned to the others, but Pidge and Matt already had them unconscious and were tying them up. He spared a brief moment to be grateful for his friends, and then knelt beside the tank and pressed his hand to the glass. "Keith." 

Keith turned. His eyes widened, and he raised his own hand to press it to the glass on the other side of Shiro's. He looked far too pale, with dark bruises under his eyes and around his wrists. 

Shiro bit his lower lip to keep from cursing the pirates. "We have to get him back to the ocean." 

"Not here," Matt said. "Pirates probably have a ship in the harbor. They'll see you if you try to get him there." 

"We can get the tank in your cart," Pidge said. "Even with the extra weight, you should be able to make it back home before dark." 

Shiro looked over the tank. "Do you think my cart can even handle this weight?" 

Pidge clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. "We'll make sure it does."

***

With Pidge and Matt's help, Shiro got the tank in his cart and saddled up Black, his horse. She was understandably irritable about the extra weight, but Shiro patted her neck and assured her he would help pull the cart once they were out of the city. 

He half-expected the pirates to come running after them, for them both to be captured and for Keith to be taken away from him, but Shiro made it out of the city without incident. 

He waited until they were a solid hour's ride from the city gates before he stopped the cart to let Black drink and rest and to pull the padlocks off the tank. There was something supremely satisfying about yanking the blasted things away and flinging them into the forest. He lifted the lid from the tank and set it aside, but Keith stayed where he was, curled at the bottom. He didn't even look up. 

Shiro swallowed his disappointment and hurt, and went to tend to his horse before getting them back on the road. 

It was a long journey, and he found himself wishing he could spend it talking to Keith, but it was abundantly clear that Keith didn't want that. And Shiro had no desire to ever force Keith into anything he didn't want. 

He found himself touching the stone at his neck more often than not, but he yanked his hand away every time. Maybe he ought to give it back. Maybe he was never supposed to wear it like this. 

By the time they returned to his house, it was after dusk, the sun having disappeared beneath the western horizon and the remaining light fading quickly from the sky. Shiro stabled Black and took the cart himself to roll it down to the ocean. Even with the wheels, it was slow going over the loose sand, but Shiro fought to get it as close as he could. 

Finally, though, it was too difficult to move through the sand, and he had to stop. He dropped the cart and walked around to Keith, still huddled in the corner of the tank. 

"I can't pull the tank any further," Shiro said. "I can carry you to the sea, though, if that's all right?" 

Keith looked at him, and then turned to the ocean. He stayed there for so long, staring, his expression unreadable, that Shiro was certain Keith hadn't heard him. 

Then Keith launched himself up and over the side of the tank. 

Shiro darted forward and caught him before he could fall fully on the sand, and grunted at the effort. Keith was much heavier than he'd anticipated, probably from the solid muscle in his tail. It took some work, but Shiro got one arm around Keith's shoulders and the other under his tail, and managed to heft him up. Keith wrapped his arms tightly around Shiro's neck. 

_It doesn't mean anything_ , Shiro told himself over the traitorous hope in his heart, and walked into the ocean. 

He waded in until he was up to his waist and planted his feet against the push and pull of the waves. He lowered Keith into the water, and Keith's arms tightened around his neck for just a second before he relaxed and started to slip away. His hands trailed down Shiro's arms as he did, and Shiro fought the urge to hold him close. 

Then Keith tightened his grip again, clutching at Shiro's upper arms, and he tore his gaze from the ocean to meet Shiro's eyes. Even with the sunlight nearly gone, and the moon still too low to give much light, he was the most beautiful man Shiro had ever seen. 

"You're letting me go," Keith said, the first words he'd spoken since Shiro had found him in the stable. 

Shiro nodded. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?" 

"You saw the hunters," Keith said softly, his words almost lost to the crash of the waves around them. "They trap us and make prizes of us." 

"You're not a prize," Shiro said sharply, and then winced at his tone. "You aren't. You're...amazing, and anyone who treats you like a _thing_ should be strung up and—"

Keith brushed fingers along his cheek, lingering on the scar that bridged his nose, and Shiro stuttered to a stop. 

"You don't want to keep me," Keith whispered. 

Shiro's heart stumbled, because he _did_ want to keep him, desperately. "You aren't a thing to be kept. You should always be free to do as you wish. I would never try to keep you from that." 

Keith ducked his head, hiding his face in shadow, but Shiro thought he saw the curve of a smile. "I have to go now." 

Shiro nodded, and let Keith slip the rest of the way out of his arms. 

With a flick of his tail, he was gone.

***

The days grew shorter, summer faded into autumn, and the leaves in the forest turned and fell. Shiro sailed every day, and occasionally ventured into the bay, but he saw no sign of Keith. Eventually, even Pidge and Matt stopped asking after him, for which Shiro was immeasurably grateful. It did nothing to dim the concern in their eyes when they asked how he was doing, but Shiro could deal with that easily enough. 

Autumn brought with it real storms, the kind that lasted for three days and meant Shiro had to tie down everything he owned so it wouldn't be blown away. It also meant he couldn't sail, but at least he and his horse had a warm, dry place to wait out the rain. 

During the third storm of the season, Shiro had just put some stew on the stove when there was a knock at his door. He ignored it. The wind had probably blown something loose. 

Then the knock sounded again, more insistently. 

Shiro looked up from his stew and frowned. That...was not the wind. 

He walked cautiously to the front door, but could see nothing through the windows except for a dark shape. No one would be foolish enough to venture out in this, and it wasn't as though he was expecting any of his friends from Arus, anyway.

He grabbed the closest heavy thing at hand—a fireplace poker—and called through the door, "Who's there?" 

The only answer was a more insistent knocking. 

Shiro hoped he wouldn't regret this decision, and pulled open the door. 

A naked man fell onto his floor, pale and soaked and shivering. 

"Holy—" Shiro threw the poker aside and tried to tug the man further inside while shutting the door at the same time. The wind slammed the door back open; Shiro cursed under his breath and shut and latched it before turning back to the man. 

A man looking up at him with dark hair and violet eyes.

Shiro couldn't believe his eyes. He hardly dared hope. "Keith?"

Keith nodded, and Shiro swore he could hear his teeth chattering. 

That snapped him out of his shock. Shiro gathered him up off the floor and put him in the chair closest to the fire, and then grabbed the warmest blanket from his bed and wrapped it around Keith until only his face was visible. 

Shiro crouched in front of Keith, rubbing the blanket over his arms to warm him, a thousand questions beating at the forefront of his mind and he hadn't a clue which one to ask first. "What are you—how did you—where did you—you have _legs_."

All right, not as coherent as he would have hoped. 

Keith smiled. "You told me they were as good as a tail. They aren't. They're terrible to swim with."

"I never said they were as good as a tail, I said they would do in a pinch," Shiro said automatically. "How...how do you have legs? _Why_ do you have legs? How did you get _here_?" 

"I have legs because I needed them to come back to you," Keith said simply. "You carry my heartstone." 

Shiro stared at him. "I...what?" 

Keith reached out from the depths of the blanket and touched the stone around Shiro's neck. It warmed against his chest, like someone had lit a fire within it. "Our heartstone forms after we meet the mate of our heart. It belongs to them, if they will accept it." His gaze flicked from the stone to meet Shiro's. "I woke up with mine in my hand the morning after you wrapped my tail." 

_Oh_. Shiro had no idea what to say; he'd had no idea what it _meant_. Vaguely, he remembered Pidge saying the stone was a rare one; apparently it was even rarer than either of them had known. It was too much information, and all his mind seemed to repeat was _Keith is here, Keith is here._  
  
"Are you...can you change back, or did you have to give up the sea?" Shiro was almost afraid of the answer. 

Keith glared at him. "I gave up my _tail_ , not the sea." 

"Fair," Shiro allowed. After all, he basically lived on the sea and he'd never had a tail. "But what about your pod? Your family? Surely—"

Keith hunched into the blanket. "They cast me out when I gave my heartstone to a human." 

"They did _what?!_ " Shiro exclaimed. "How could they—"

Keith shrugged, as though it didn't matter. "I knew they might. But...I had to. It was yours." 

Words failed him. Shiro could only gape at this beautiful man, bundled in a blanket, saying that the feelings Shiro had been wrestling with for months now were not as unrequited as he'd thought. 

With trembling hands, he reached up to cup Keith's face, and then hesitated. He was still scared, so scared this was a dream, scared he was just imagining that Keith wanted him, scared that touching would make all of this fade away. 

Then Keith leaned into his hands, and Shiro gave into the desire he'd had for months and pulled him into a kiss. 

He meant to keep it light and gentle, not too much, but Keith made a small noise and surged into him, and Shiro was lost. 

He was lost in the taste of salt and the sea, in the sensation of Keith's lips and tongue against his, in the solid _rightness_ of Keith in his arms, in the beat of the heartstone against his chest. 

_I want you_ , his mind chanted to the rhythm. _I want you, I want you, I want you._  
  
When Shiro finally had to break away to breathe, he was flat on his back in front of the fire, with Keith on top of him. 

"You, uh." He had to swallow a few times to buy himself time to think. "Would you like to stay here? With me?" 

Keith nodded, a small smile blooming across his face. 

"I don't have a heartstone to give you," Shiro said. 

"I don't need one." Keith nestled against his chest. "I have you."

***

That night, after the storm had passed, Shiro walked out onto his porch to watch the clouds roll away and listen to the waves, as he so often did. 

But for the first time, he was not alone. 

Keith walked out to stand with him, and linked their fingers together. Shiro pulled him close and pressed his face into Keith's hair, breathing in the scent of salt.

They held each other, beneath the sky and beside the sea, and neither was large enough to encompass the overwhelming awe and love Shiro felt. This was his life. This was real.

He may not have had a stone to give in return, but Keith had his heart anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mad_madam_m)!
> 
> If I don't go back and write an inventor!Pidge/tavern owner!Allura fic to go with this one, it will be a freaking miracle.


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